


Made for You

by Blueberries (Blueberries_Pen)



Series: SladeRobin Week 2020 [1]
Category: DCU
Genre: Broken Bones, Degradation, Dehumanization, Enemas, Gang Bang, Humiliation, M/M, Mindbreak, Multiple Orgasms, No Lube, No beta we die like mne, Orgasm Denial, Overstimulation, Reluctant Soulmates, Robot Sex, SladeRobin Week 2020, Stabbing, Touch-Starved, Watersports, evil tsundere slade, they both fall in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:35:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27191143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blueberries_Pen/pseuds/Blueberries
Summary: “You’ve been getting in my way for too long, boy,” Slade says coldly. “I’m done with you.”And then, of course, it turns out they're soulmates.Which is a problem, because if your soulmate dies, you die too.Slade decides to solve this problem with his own unique solution.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson, Dick Grayson/Sladebots
Series: SladeRobin Week 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1984930
Comments: 17
Kudos: 114
Collections: SladeRobin Week 2020





	Made for You

**Author's Note:**

> you have idea how long I've worked on this. so many hours.  
> *twitch* I'm dead. going to sleep now. been working on this all day, yesterday, day before. have not been scrolled twitter. have not slept enough. have not eaten lunch. it was written in a haze of possession. please accept my offering of Sladin.
> 
> (ALSO, if you are looking for a soulmate story worth reading full of angst, go read Averia's soulmate series. gooooo for tis delicious)

"Step aside, kid. This isn't any of your business."

A flash of cold steel, gleaming.

"What, you think I'm just going to _let_ you get away with killing someone?"

A colorful blur of a birdarang, clashing against steel.

"Well, I'd _hoped_ you had the common sense not to get in my way."

Robin bares his teeth, throwing another one, keeping the civilian behind him. "I would _never_ let you hurt _anyone,_ Slade!"

"You're alone, boy. Step aside – I won't ask again," Slade snaps back, cold.

The Titans aren't here. It's just Robin. But he _can't_ step aside. He wouldn't be a hero if he did. He just has to keep on fighting, keep on hoping, that all his training and fighting and _luck_ will be _enough._

 _..._ enough, against a mercenary who had beat him so easily, who had a kill count high enough for even _Bruce_ to be wary of him, who does _not_ hesitate to kill. He has to remember that. Even so…

"I _won't_ ," Robin says, quiet and determined.

They meet in a clash of fists and blades.

Robin bleeds and bruises a lot faster, Slade's hands blurring. Robin, realizes, quickly, that Slade isn't playing around. Not like he usually does. His ribs crack and his breath wheezes. He manages, with a lucky shot, to cut off part of Slade's gloves, at the fingers, and he lets himself feel a flash of triumphant victory – but it's not enough. He's bruised and bleeding and the civilian has an injured leg. If he can't come up with something quick, he's going to – going to fall. 

_Lose_.

His eyes flicker, hesitating, as they searched for a way out – 

_Shlick._

“You’ve been getting in my way for too long, boy,” Slade says coldly. “I’m _done_ with you.”

Robin blinks, slow, meeting Slade’s dispassionate blue eye. He doesn’t quite understand what’s happening at first, but… there’s an odd heat in his belly that drags his gaze downward. His vision blurs in and out of focus. There’s a sword. Half of one. In front of his stomach. _Oh._ Because it’s going _through_ him. _Oh._ Because the pointy part is poking out his other end. Because Slade _stabbed_ him. _Oh._

Then the pain hits, and he gasps, knees going weak and blood splattering as he coughs because _Slade stabbed him._

“Bas...tard,” he wheezes, trying to stay steady. 

“You shouldn’t have gotten in the way of my contract, Grayson,” Slade says offhandedly, and begins to pull the sword out. 

_I’m going to die here,_ Robin thinks. Robin’s – Dick’s – death is final. But the man… Robin can still give him a chance – the window is behind Slade. If he can just get enough energy to shove Slade out with him – Robin takes what he thinks will be his last breath, and surges forward.

This is his first mistake.

The next is that when he _moves,_ shoving Slade forward with a snarl and all the ferocity he can manage, Slade’s hand slips from his grip on the sword, sliding up. This is the second.

The third, most damning mistake, is this – when the uncovered skin of Slade’s hand meets the exposed, bloodied skin of his abdomen. 

Light, gold and blue bursting together like it’s lapis lazuli, light up, streams of them encircling them both. _Damning_ them both. 

_No,_ Robin thinks, collapsing weakly against Slade, drained. He can already feel it, the steady thrum of a heartbeat against his own fluttering, quickened beats.

Slade though – Slade _laughs,_ cruel and mocking and harsh. “You always do find a way to make trouble for me, don’t you, boy?”

Robin looks up, panting and clutching his side, and tries to comprehend what ungodly force decided to make this _monster_ his soulmate. He searches, and can not find a single redeeming feature in Slade’s visage. Only cold, carved stone. 

Slade turns. Back to the man, who had backed away, trembling against the wall, clutching his broken leg. “I’ll deal with you later,” he says, giving Robin a cursory glance, like the fact that it’s his _soulmate_ bleeding out on the floor doesn’t bother him in the least.

His sword, still shining with Robin’s blood, slowly rises.

 _No,_ Robin thinks. Even if this is his soulmate, Robin will _not_ stand by and watch him _kill._

He doesn’t plead, knows that’s futile, that Slade isn’t one to _listen._ No, his legs still work. Can still move, even if he’s bleeding out. It’s not fatal, otherwise, Slade wouldn’t have left him like that. So he gathers up another burst of adrenaline bodily throwing himself across the man. And Slade _has_ to stop. 

Because soulmates – they’re _connected._

One feeds into another.

One supports one another. 

They are _bound_ together.

If Robin dies – _so does Slade._

So Slade has to stop, right? Before he hits Robin, even if he’s aiming to kill, he has to stop, or else he’ll die too, won’t he? So he _must_ stop. It doesn’t make sense otherwise. Robin is a hero – what else can he do but gamble with his life to save someone?

He tries to smile reassuringly at the scared man, even as blood from his stomach drips down onto his body. It’ll be okay, it has to –

The sword pierces his body, going straight through him, down into the man’s heart.

Robin freezes, uncomprehending, not understanding. _Why?_

The sword slides out, blood bursting from the man’s chest onto Robin’s. _I didn’t even know your name,_ Robin thinks, numb, looking into the man’s shocked eyes. 

“Foolish,” Slade says from behind him. Robin collapses, wheezing and coughing and pathetically clutching at his chest. _He’s going to die._ Why would Slade–? Robin cries out, trying to ignore the screaming pain in his chest, as Slade yanks his head back by the hair. 

“Why–?” Robin’s voice gurgles, coughing out blood. 

“Even if you’re my soulmate,” Slade says lightly, “I won’t have you getting in the way of my contract.”

Robin tries to focus, to stay awake, to listen, to try to understand this monster in human shape. He doesn’t – how could _anyone_ feel such pain from their soulmate and still not _stop?_...He’s heard people say harming your soulmate feels like hurting yourself, if only metaphorically, but he supposes that doesn’t apply to something like Slade.

A hand curls around his neck, and his heartbeat frantically rises. Slade’s, though, it stays steady as it had been since it appeared. Does he not even feel _fear?_

“Now,” Slade says softly. “To deal with _you.”_

Robin frantically searches Slade’s masked face for any sign of deceit, of _mercy,_ and finds none. 

Slade squeezes.

.

“With me, boy?”

Robin wakes up gasping, a sharp flair of pain in his side awakening him. _Alive._ He’s alive. Bandages are wrapped crudely around his abdomen, but every ragged breath still hurts – no painkillers. Cold air hits his naked skin and he shivers, raising his head. Slade stands in front of him, above him, still in that deadly armor and blood clinging to kevlar. 

Gears spin above them.

Back at the hideout. 

Alive, but he might as well be in hell.

Robin swallows, and shifts his weight to his legs, trying to rise. Cold steel leveled in front of his face stops him. 

“Stay down, boy,” Slade orders. Robin eyes him warily and debates disobeying, if only out of sheer spite, only for a moment – but Slade has already stabbed him without hesitation _twice,_ even _after_ knowing full well that Robin is his _soulmate,_ and Robin is _not_ inclined to get stabbed again.

...he doesn't particularly feel like exposing himself either, and staying down lets him stay hunched over.

"Slade," he says curtly, warily. "What do you want?"

Slade's lips curl. He's seen it before – back when he was still being blackmailed. Still hates it just as much as he did back then. "I _want_ you to be _dead._ But that's not an option now, is it?"

A chill goes down Robin's spine. So Slade had been aiming to kill with the first stab – a long, drawn–out death, while he slowly bled out.

"Now, though," Slade muses, sticking his sword under Robin's chin and forcing him to look up, "now you're just a hindrance, a _burden."_

You die if your soulmate does. If you were hoping to _kill_ your soulmate, that became inconvenient. 

"I refuse to die because of a brat like you," Slade hisses, digging in the sword and drawing blood.

Robin leans back, but the sword follows. "Maybe you shouldn't be pointing a sword at me, then," he says bitingly. 

The sword doesn't move. "I won't have you _used_ against me – I won't have _you_ use it against me either."

"You think I _want_ you as a soulmate either?" Robin snaps, temper rising. "You think, what, I'll go around parading that fact? Get _real,_ Slade _._ We're _enemies._ I'll still keep fighting you – you just have to get used to not resorting to murder, like any sane person."

The point of the sword digs in deeper. "Don't tempt me, boy," Slade says softly, eye flashing dangerously. A pause, then Slade continues, "You're a reckless brat, Robin – you're going to get yourself killed sooner or later, and I have no intention of suffering because of your idiocy. No, I intend to make _sure_ you don't get in my way _or_ get yourself killed."

The sword pulls back, leaving a trail of blood dripping down his neck, and Robin tenses, confusion prickling. "I'm not going to be your _apprentice,_ Slade. We've been over this."

Slade chuckles, eye appraising him in a way that has Robin's skin crawling. "Don't be stupid, boy – I won't be putting you in the line of fire like that. You would make for a _shit_ apprentice." Slade actually smiles, and Robin is acutely aware of how _vulnerable_ he is, naked and injured. "You'd make for a good pet, though – after breaking you in that is."

Robin stares. "I – _what_?"

"A _whore,_ Robin," Slade sighs. "I'm saying, if I have to be responsible for making sure you stay alive, the least you could do in payment is be a good little slut and keep my jizz nice and warm inside you."

His head spins, dizzy. " _What."_

Slade laughs. "Kind of slow, aren't you? It's alright – pets don't need a working brain." He steps closer, and Robin jerks back, eyes wide and body thrumming with bewildered fear. Slade’s heartbeat, though, is as steady as ever. "I'm going to _fuck_ that ass of yours, boy. You're _mine,_ but you're a burden to me otherwise. Might as well make yourself useful in some way, hm?"

Robin jerks up, ignoring the pain in his chest as he backpedals. "Are you – what the actual _fuck,_ Slade!" 

Slade can't – he wouldn't – even for Slade, this is –

"It's alright," Slade says softly, stalking forward. "You'll get used to it. You won't even remember your own name, eventually. Won't know anything except wanting to get fucked by my cock."

This is the middle of Slade's hideout, Robin is weaponless, injured, defenseless. He can't escape. There is nothing to do but fight a futile battle, and he throws himself into it, fear pushing him.

A punch, caught. 

A kick, ignored.

The futile beat of a fist against Slade's chest.

The staccato breaths of Robin, as he realizes he has no way out.

...Slade has him pinned to the ground in a moment.

"It's alright, pet," Slade murmurs, voice as steady as his heartbeat, and Robin shivers at the term of address. "You're my soulmate. You were _made_ for this."

Robin's chest and abdomen scream at him, pain bursting as Slade applies pressure to his back, but the frantic beat of his heart has _nothing_ to do with that and everything to do with the press of something hard between Slade's thigh pressing into his lower back. He wonders how Slade isn’t bothered by it – doesn’t he feel Robin’s fear, or is he just incapable of caring? 

Robin gasps, breath ragged. "Stop, Slade, you can't –"

"Don't make me break your bones so _soon,_ boy," Slade says softly, even as his hands tightened around Robin's wrists.

Robin can't stop struggling – because – the _alternative_ – Slade will –

_Snap._

"AHHH!" Robin screams, loud, as sharp pain flares across both his wrists. It burns, and brings tears to his eyes so _easily._ It's not fair – Slade is older, stronger, faster, _better,_ and Robin never really had a chance of getting away. 

He bites back a sob, fingers twitching.

"It'll be your legs, next, if you don't stop," Slade warns lazily, and Robin shakes beneath him. It hurts, it really _fucking hurts,_ but the alternative is doing nothing and letting Slade – letting Slade _ruin_ him.

He pushes forward on his elbows, kicks back with his legs, trying to crawl away from under Slade, only to be dragged back.

Hands settle over his ankles. " _Robin."_ The word is said softly, and Robin shivers, sobbing, and falls still. He can't run if can't use his legs, he needs to stop, wait, find a good time to –

_Crack._

Robin shrieks, again, ankles bursting with pain. _Why?_ He had stopped – that wasn't – Slade was supposed to –

"You didn't obey me immediately, pet," Slade says, nonchalantly, heart rate completely _steady,_ like he hadn't just broken every single one of Robin's limbs. They hurt, they hurt, _they hurt so much Robin doesn't deserve this –_

Robin sobs. This is cruelty, plain and simple – Slade didn't have to break bones to keep him pinned, not when Robin is already injured and down, but he did, anyway, because he's a fucking _bastard_ who likes seeing Robin suffer.

He doesn't understand why fate decided to tie him to someone like _this._ What did it say about Robin, that the other half of his soul is _Slade_? What did it say about him, that his soulmate – even if they were enemies – could hurt him so cruelly?

"Stay down – you wouldn't want to end up with more broken bones now, would you?" Slade murmurs, lifting his hands from Robin's skin.

 _Click –_ the sound of Slade's belt coming undone.

Robin's heart thrums, speeding up. _No._

The slide of pants sliding down.

_No. No no no NO._

The pressure of something hard and hot against his ass.

"Stop," Robin gasps. "Slade _, stop."_

Rough, calloused hands spread apart his cheeks. Something wet and warm lands on his rim, sliding down – Slade spit on him. Thumbs rub it in, dipping down inside and stretching. The barest minimum of preparation, because Slade is – he’s going to –

“ _Stop,_ Slade – you can’t – don’t –” There’s something cold in him, broken hands scrambling.

“You’re _mine,”_ Slade says softly, cock pressing against his asshole. “This is how you were made to be used.” 

Pressure, increasing.

“Don’t – don’t – _Slade_ – stop –” Slade shoves in, and Robin screams, loud and openmouthed, unable to hold it back. The stretch – _fuck –_ why does it still hurt, how does it still hurt, when his wrists and ankles _throb_ incessantly, when the stab wounds still flare and bleed sluggishly and stain his bandages? Tears fall and stain the sides of his face, dripping down to the cold floor below. 

Just when his scream petters out, taken over instead by his rough breaths, Slade _pushes,_ and Robin is yelling out all over again. 

“Tight, aren’t you?” Slade laughs, voice still all too clear over his screams. “Pretty little thing. Going to take a lot of time before you loosen up properly.”

“Take it out,” Robin begs, body shaking. “Please. Take it out, _fuck,_ Slade, it hurts, stop, _Slade,_ please – _ah!”_ Slade silences him with another shove forward, forcing more and more of his hard, thick cock inside.

“Hush,” Slade shushes him, hands on Robin’s hip unrelentingly pushing him onto Slade’s cock. “You’ll get used to it, pet – you were _made_ for me, after all.”

Robin shakes his head, hiccuping as he tries to stop crying but he _can’t._ There’s something hot and wet inside him, and it _stings._ He’s bleeding, down there. He wonders, morbidly, if Slade just keeps on pushing, if he’ll push far enough to come out the wound on Robin’s front.

Surely, Slade’s pushed in far enough, now? There couldn’t be more, he’d die if there more – 

Inch by agonizing inch, Slade’s cock stretched him open, Robin’s pleas and sobs dismissed without any acknowledgment. 

There is not a single part of his body that does not hurt, that does not ache or burn in any way, and it’s not _fair._ This isn’t how it was supposed to be – not like this, never like this – he was supposed to _celebrate_ finding his soulmate, finding a partner he could rely on unconditionally, go on dates and laugh about stupid things, share secret kisses and flustered exchanges – instead – instead –

Instead, there is only Slade, tearing his body apart.

Robin isn’t sure how he hasn’t split in two, by the time Slade’s balls finally hit his ass and the man lets out an appreciative groan. Robin thinks, distantly, the flutter of his heartbeat must only urge Slade on.

Robin takes in shallow breaths, trying not to smell the blood or the smell of leather and oil and steel that always accompanies Slade, tries not to breathe in the hot exhale of Slade’s breaths against his neck, puffs of air that make his skin crawl and shrivel up. Tries to breathe, to hold on, to relax and not focus on every ache and pain that ties him down, but it’s hard. Fucking hell, _he can’t._

How is he still here, still existing in this moment, instead of being torn apart into scraps and devoured entirely by Slade?

_It makes no sense._

Everything burns, and when Slade pulls back, the harsh friction burning up his insides even more as Slade pulls out, Robin sobs, wailing, broken fingers trying to clench and give him another pain to distract him instead of on how Slade is _inside_ him, _violating_ him, ruthlessly crushing every single hope and dream Robin ever had about his soulmate.

“Shut up – _hn –_ you fucking whore,” Slade grunts, shoving his cock in again, stained with Robin’s blood and all. “Don’t you know? Pets – _ah_ – should be seen and not _heard.”_

Robin turns his head to the side, trying not to choke on the bile crawling up his throat or the tears he can’t stop, and catches a glimpse of Slade’s face alit with sadistic pleasure and glee. Slade is _enjoying_ this. Enjoying _raping_ him. Taking pleasure in every bit of Robin’s pain and the rapid flutter of his heartbeat.

 _Fucking bastard,_ he thinks, rage burning him. So what if this is his soulmate? There is nothing Robin wants more than to see that stupid smug face behind bars.

“Fuck you,” he snarls, bitter. “ _Bastard.”_

Slade’s hips don’t even stutter in their rhythm when his hand grips him by the hair and raises it to only slam it back down. Red fills his vision, and Robin chokes on his own spit, coughing.

“You’ll be spending a lot of time in training, I see,” Slade says nonchalantly.

Robin bares his teeth, tears and blood blurring his vision but overwhelmed by bitter rage. “I won’t _break,_ Sla – AH!” He screams, again, as Slade casually squeezes his broken wrist and _fuck,_ that makes everything worse as his body clenches up and tightens even more around Slade’s cock. 

Slade laughs, and Robin feels his face burn with humiliation. “You’re such a child,” he mocks, patronizing, “There is much yet you have to learn, boy. I think you’ll be surprised at how easily you _do_ break.”

“ _Won’t,”_ Robin gasps, helplessly, as Slade punches inside, again and again. 

“You will,” Slade says firmly, and then grips his hips so tightly and starts a pace so brutal it knocks the breath out of him with each thrust. 

It doesn’t take long after that before Slade’s rhythm begins to stutter. Robin doesn’t quite realize what’s happening, too focused on his own pain, but he notices when Slade bites down savagely on his shoulder.

Robin yells, pained, and then twists and struggles futilely in an attempt to dislodge him. “Let go – Slade – _let go –_ stop –”

Slade doesn’t, not until there’s blood blooming from the bite and there’s warmth filling up his ass. He shudders, feeling sick to his stomach. Slade _came_ inside him. He has no right, Slade can’t – but Slade is also his soulmate, and that’s enough for Slade.

Slade pulls out, and Robin is left broken and shivering on the floor, dirty with blood and come dripping from his ass. He looks up at Slade, hatefully but can’t hide the fear from shining through. Slade is big, so big, above him, and Robin can _see_ his cock now, big and veined and still bloodied from Robin’s wounds. 

He shudders. 

That had been _in_ him.

He wants to throw up, but forces it back. He remembers how little Slade had fed him during his apprenticeship. He has no doubt this time won’t be different. 

Cold, gloved hands suddenly jerk him up by the elbows – Slade still in front of him – and he shrieks, panicking at the unexpected touch and the instinctive fear of having been _seen_ before he realizes they’re only Sladebots. There to – transport him? He huffs lightly, but it’s not as if he’s capable of moving around on his own after Slade broke his ankles. 

He slumps, tired and breaths rattling with every inhale, but still keeping a wary eye on Slade.

The man approaches him, and he tenses, but Slade only cups his cheek and rubs a thumb under his eye. There’s a pressure there that he doesn’t like, that makes him jerk away. “You had your fun,” he spits hoarsely. “Fuck off.”

Slade’s lips quirk up, hands clasping behind his back. “You didn’t think it was over already, did you?”

Robin tenses, eyes sharpening to focus on Slade, but Slade has neatly tucked himself away. Isn’t approaching. “What are you–” the grip on his arms shift, and he gasps as he’s abruptly bent over, shoulders held up by one bot, and his hips by another. 

There’s pressure, again, at his hole, and for a second, Robin is confused – before he sees a hard cock jut out from the bot in front of him. He blanches, jerking his face away. _“No.”_

“Yes,” Slade corrects. “I have better things to do than attend to every second of your training myself, pet. You get to… enjoy the comfort of the Sladebots instead.”

The bot behind him pushes in, and he hisses at it stretches open his abused hole once more. It’s cold, silicone, but quickly begins to warm up as it steals his body heat. “Don’t – Slade –”

Slade speaks over him. “All you need to train a slut is to fuck them, really. And luckily for you, in order to get your training done as fast as possible, you get to be fucked by the Sladebots all. Day. Long.” He chuckles. “There won’t be a moment where you don’t have a cock in you, boy, – whether you eat, sleep, bleed, or even piss – it will _always_ be fucking you.”

Robin pales, feels the cock within him thrust. He opens his mouth to protest – and the Sladebot in front pushes in, rudely shoving its cock in. Robin gags, trying to twists away, but the hands keep him in place. He bites down – but it’s hard and unfeeling, and the only one he hurts is himself.

Slade watches on with dark, hooded eyes. “Don’t worry, pet,” he says softly, “You’ll learn to like it soon enough.” He places a hand on Robin’s cheek again, and Robin flinches. “Remember, boy, you’re my soulmate – you were _made_ for this.”

He turns, walking away, and it’s only then that Robin notices the shifting shadows – they’re full of Sladebots.

Fuck.

The approach, all surrounding him, touching him, and despite all of Robin’s muffled screams, Slade – the real Slade – disappears within the mass.

Robin’s breaths come panicky, flinching away from the hands touching him, from the broken bones Slade still hadn’t set – _does Slade intend to leave them like that? –_ from the sheer claustrophobia of being so thoroughly surrounded by enemy bots in every damn direction. 

Slade isn’t here, and that should be an opportunity – for escape, for rest, for _something –_ but instead, he’s still here, broken and injured and only getting his already battered body fucked _again._

Every breath hurts, head spinning dizzily with each asynchronous thrusts, and Robin thinks he’ll fall any moment and yet is unable to hold onto _anything._

He sobs, hating the feeling of fingers prodding and poking at his injuries, caressing and ruffling his hair in a mockery of comfort – pinching and squeezing at his _nipples,_ enveloping his small _cock_ in their too big hands. 

The last one makes him scream, makes him struggle anew despite the state of his body, try to push and kick them away.

His hands are caught and pressed against his lower back, his legs held down and gently stroked, petting him like he was some sort of animal panicking for no reason that needed to be soothed.

 _This is_ not _no reason!_

But all his screams are muffled by the false cock in his mouth, the bot taking it as an invitation to shove it down his throat and make him gag, and hands just keep on _touching_ his cock. Robin doesn’t _want_ this, doesn’t want to get an iota of pleasure from getting _raped,_ but then damningly, the cock in his ass shifts just _so_ and hits something that makes his scream turn into a whine instead, makes him see _stars._

And between all the touch and the skilled hands stroking his cock and the dick pounding away at his prostate, it’s impossible for him not to get hard, no matter how much the rest of his body hurts.

 _No,_ Robin thinks desperately, clenches his hands to make them flare with pain, tries to focus on anything but that, reminds himself that this will only get worse and worse and _worse,_ but Slade knows how to touch him far too well.

The one touching his cock isn’t even rough, brushing over it in firm but gentle strokes, rubbing over the slit and fondling his balls all at once. The pain of having his ass penetrated dry, with only blood and Slade’s come as lube, is overtaken instead by the constant pressure on his prostate, that no matter how he squirms he can’t get away from. 

He chokes, trying desperately to breathe as a cock shoves itself too deep down his throat and steals his breath away. It keeps him there easily with a grip on his hair, and the one behind him pushes in just as hard, pressing in deep with the grip on his hips and then stilling.

 _Is this how I’m supposed to die?_ Robin thinks morbidly for a moment, vision starting to darken. 

Something hot and bitter fills his mouth, similarly filling up his ass, and Robin chokes and is forced to swallow it down if he wants to breathe and then a bot strokes his cock _just so,_ rubbing over the head teasingly, and then –

_White._

Robin’s back arches as he comes, pleasure bursting through his body and momentarily silencing every ache and pain for one glorious moment as white streaks splatter on the floor beneath him.

He slumps, whining, then twitching as the cocks start up their thrusts again, pumping inside his overstimulated body. Every drag against the walls of his ass makes him want to sob because it’s too much, _far too much_ too soon. Even the stimulation to his cock doesn’t stop, the Sladebots seemingly not caring how soft he is, not caring that he _can’t_ come so soon after already coming once, just stroking and pumping away.

Tears fall unceasingly down his face as he sobs.

He can’t move, held up only by the relentless mass of hands on him, holding him up and holding him down, overtaken by sheer _sensation._

Any protests he may have had are muffled by cock, the only sounds echoing in the room is the slick sounds of cock pounding into him, of the brush of gloved fingers brushing over his body, and his sobs and cut off moans and whimpers.

Inevitably, under their assault, no matter how Robin tries to hold it off, he gets hard again, and the bots seem to take it as a cue to speed up, the hands on him almost becoming _frantic_ in their movement. Robin mewls helplessly, squirms feebly in an effort to _stop,_ and get away, but his protests are drowned as the bots simply _take_ what they want.

All too soon, white fills his vision again, edging on almost painful, but _fuck,_ for a singular moment Robin is free from body and instead floating on blissful clouds. 

He crashes down to earth all too quickly as the bots. Just. Don’t. Stop. 

It hurts now, amplifying with the throb of his abdomen and the burning ache in his wrists and ankles, and Robin sobs and _sobs_ but they don’t stop at all.

He wants to beg Slade to stop, to just give him a minute, _please,_ to remind him that Robin is _human,_ that Robin _isn’t_ enhanced, that Robin can’t take this –

But that’s the point, isn’t it? Robin isn’t _supposed_ to be able to take this, Robin is supposed to _break_ under this, and terrifyingly, Robin realizes he very well _might._

_No._

_No no no!_

But his protests go unheard and unnoticed, his struggles too weak to make a difference, and he is fucked, relentlessly, orgasm after orgasm pulled out of his body without mercy, tears falling ceaselessly. They just keep going, not stopping even when Robin’s cock no longer is able to come, only painful dry orgasm, one after the other. They don’t stop when he can’t even manage that anymore, cock remaining stubbornly limp as his prostate is pounded hard enough to be bruised.

When his vision blacks out and he slumps, it’s the only mercy receives, but even then, the bots don’t stop, fucking his unconscious body like he’s just a toy for them to play with.

.

When he wakes, hours later, they’re _still_ fucking him, one after the other, and Robin just cries harder, because every part of his body _aches_ and _hurts_ and he can’t keep this up, he _can’t._

There’s an uncomfortable pressure building in his stomach, a sensation of too much _fullness,_ a building pressure to let go, and he sobs humiliatingly as he realizes he needs to piss. Slade had said he’s going to be fucked through that, too, isn’t he?

Robin tries to hold it back, _he does,_ but the pressure builds to too _much,_ and unavoidably, with one last brush to his lower stomach he isn’t able to stop, he _releases,_ and once he starts, he can’t stop, piss mixing with the come already staining the floor beneath.

He thinks he’s never been more humiliated, but it’s hard to dwell on that when the bots just keep on fucking. His jaw aches. His ass aches. His entire fucking body aches and he just wants it to _stop._

The wave of bots parting and Slade’s chuckle as he approaches is the best thing he hears in what feels like forever, the beat of his heart getting stronger with the decreasing distance.

“Mm–mmph!” Robin whines loudly, frantically, pleading for Slade to notice, for a scrap for mercy, because at this point he will get down on his knees and _suck Slade off_ if that’s what it takes for it to just stop.

Slade stops before him, looks down at him like a master inspecting his wares, and says, “It’s made quite the mess, hasn’t it? Stupid slut.”

It. _It._ That ‘it’ is _Robin,_ and it just makes him sob harder because all Slade really even sees him as is his possession, but _fuck,_ Robin won’t even protest _that,_ just _let him out please fuck please him out –_

A trickle of something hot hits his cheek, and Robin blinks wetly as he stares at Slade’s soft cock, piss arching in a stream as it hits him.

“Perhaps it’ll make for a good toilet, too,” Slade muses, and Robin cries but is unable to do anything as the piss streams over him, from his shoulders to his back to ass. Okay, okay, _fuck_ the thought makes bile rise in his throat but Robin is so fucking tired that Slade can even do _that,_ can piss in him or on him or _whatever,_ just. 

Please.

_Let it stop._

Slade tucks himself away, nonchalantly, like he hadn’t just pissed all over Robin’s dignity.

Robin looks up at Slade pleadingly, even with his mouth stretched wide around a cock and soaked in piss, trying to convey his sheer desperation.

Slade sees, Robin _knows_ Slade sees, because his lips quirk up in the way it always does when he’s amused, but – but but _but –_

Slade turns, and walks away, and the bots just keep on fucking. 

.

“Fucking slut.”

Robin jerks to attention, panting through the haze of _painpleasurepain_ **_pleasure_ ** to frantically search for Slade. He didn’t know how long it had been, but surely, it had to be for long _enough?_ Robin can’t even move his own body anymore, just continuously twitching weakly in their hold.

He searches, focusing his eyes, but Slade is nowhere to be found. 

Only the bots, surrounding him and fucking him as relentlessly as always. 

“Look at it, guzzling down jizz and then getting _off_ on it. What could be aside from a whore?”

Robin isn’t – he’s not – Slade’s the one who –

 _No._ That doesn’t matter. He just needs everything to _stop._

Slade. Where’s Slade?

He strains his eyes, ears, but the air is only heavy with the smell of his own spent, of the slick sounds of his holes getting fucked.

“You deserve this, pet – this is your _sole_ purpose, the only reason for which you exist.”

His heartbeat is faint, barely there, telling Robin he isn’t here.

It’s not Slade. Just _recordings,_ transmitted from the numerous Sladebots around him.

He sobs. Slade isn’t here to free him now either. 

The bots keep fucking, and now there’s the added whisper of Slade’s voice in his ear, mocking him and telling him just how he’s meant to be used, just how he _will_ be used.

Robin is terrified of the day Slade’s words are no longer mockery but rather simple truth.

.

The cock slips from his mouth.

“Ah, ah, _ah,”_ Small pants fall from Robin’s mouth, drool and artificial come dripping out of the corner, eyes unfocused. That’s all he manages to say, before it’s replaced by another.

A hand, soft and warm brushes his cheek, and Robin _whines._ Actual human contact. Slade. Not just a Sladebot. He sobs, pleading, but Slade only pats his cheek and wipes away the trail of tears before taking it away woefully fast. 

“Stupid animal,” Slade grumbles, sounding exasperated. “Look at what a mess you’ve made of your bandages.” Covered in blood and come and other fluids, it’s a mess, just like every other part of Robin. Hands go to them, tugging them open, and Robin whimpers as dried blood is peeled off away from his skin.

It hurts, but so does everything else. 

His cock spurts weakly, right in front of Slade, he burns with humiliation because he can’t stop it at all. He’s still being fucked, even as Slade changes his bandages, winds the clean white wraps around him. 

There is no respite.

Not for him.

Slade rises, barely giving him a disinterested glance, and then, as always, walks away.

.

Robin doesn’t notice, at first, when he begins to thrust back.

It seems the most natural thing, to push back, to give in, to meet the Sladebot’s thrusts for thrust, to relax and chase after the only pleasure he’s allowed to have.

“Fucking slut, look at how eager it is to be fucked.” Slade notices though. Always does, and he makes sure to let Robin know just how much of a whore he is each time. Robin sobs and wants to protest – but he _is_ thrusting back. He can’t help it – he _can’t –_ not when everything hurts and the only reprieve he gets is the burst of endorphins with coming. 

Even if it hurts more after, he hurts _anyway,_ and he can’t stop at all.

So he cries, humiliated, naked and broken, but pushes back against the cock inside him, thrusts into the hands jerking him off, chasing a high.

Slade is mean, though.

Hands on his cock abruptly disappear, and Robin is left aching to be touched. 

“You’re a whore, pet,” Slade’s voice drawls. He’s not here, his heartbeat too faint, so it’s just a recorded voice, but it makes his eyes burn anyway. “You’ll come from getting fucked or not at all.”

They don’t touch his cock much, after that. If Robin wants to come – if he wants that blissful release, he has to work for it, push back onto the cock, clench around it keep it in him longer.

He’s ashamed, so ashamed, sobbing and crying humiliation shaking every part of his body, but coming feels _good_ and he can’t stop it.

Robin doesn’t even notice when the bots stop aiming for his prostate with each thrust. He simply adjusts, shifting himself till _he_ is the one making sure his prostate gets hit, hips trembling and darkened with bruises as they push back.

White blanks out his vision, and Robin sighs, almost in contentment, at the pleasure. 

He’s learning, just like Slade said he would.

.

“Thirsty, pet?” 

Robin is starving, thirsty, throat parched and stomach growling for food.

He blinks up hazily, desolate. His head throbs, eyes aching, and he futilely clenches them shut in an effort to make it hurt less. He whines.

Someone laughs. “Then suck, you silly little thing.”

If he obeys… he’ll get water? Food? 

The thought pushes him, makes him push his aching jaw and move it and his lips around the Sladebot’s cock in his mouth. If he sucks, he’ll get water. Will get a _little_ relief at least. His movements are clumsy, teeth scraping it, and Slade tuts. 

“You have to be _better,_ pet,” Slade chides. “Do better, and you’ll be fed faster.”

Robin tries to obey, he really does, but his muscles barely listen to him. He opens his mouth wide, taking more and more of Slade down his throat, all in an effort to satiate his starving stomach. It takes forever, an eternity in which Robin comes again.

But at last, he’s able to do something _right,_ because the cock releases and – a sharp, acrid taste – _piss._

Robin sobs, crying, but it’s still _water,_ and he’s thirsty, and he _needs it._ Some of it drips out of his mouth, but Robin closes his mouth around the cock and sucks it all down. It lives a bitter taste in his mouth, but there’s always a bitter taste there now.

“Pretty terrible for a first attempt, pet,” Slade says. “Do better, or you’ll starve.”

Robin sniffles, and obediently starts to suckle again. It’s not like there’s ever not a cock inside him. He doesn’t always get food, but the ever–present hunger inside him keeps him trying. Eventually, when he’s good enough, he’ll get other foods too – sometimes broth, sometimes milk, sometimes thick gravy – but for now, he subsists off artificial come and piss.

Robin’s stomach growls, again, and his mouth moves faster.

He _will_ learn – there is no other choice.

.

Robin awakens, choking, to a cock being shoved down his throat and his gut twisting painfully as something rushes inside and fills him. He jerks painfully, futilely, keening as he tries to escape, but the base of the cock inside his ass is flared, like a knot, keeping him right there as warm water pours into him. 

He cries out pitifully, his stomach cramping painfully and making his wounds flare. But the pressure of the water doesn’t abate, just filling him more and more as it comes through the tube within the cock, his stomach bloating from it.

“Shh, pet. Dirty little animals like you need to be cleaned regularly.”

But it _hurts._ Robin doesn’t want to hurt. Reflexively, his hips jerk, trying to get the cock within to brush against his prostate. When it finally does, it’s a _relief,_ and Robin finally falls still with a sob, trying to focus on the pleasure over the pain. 

But his stomach still cramps and pain just builds, over and over, with no sign of stopping. 

The cock never leaves, but the knot deflates as it starts to really fuck into him, allowing bloodstained water to drip out.

Feverently, Robin pushes back, wanting the water out of him as soon as possible. It made him _heavy,_ put pressure on his still recovering wounds, and he hates it. 

He hopes he doesn’t have to go through it often, but unfortunately for him, it’s how he’s woken every day – water rushing his insides, sometimes so warm it sends him skrieking and burns him from inside out, sometimes so cold Robin is a shivering wreak for hours after. Sometimes it’s soapy, painful, cramps so severe Robin cries and screams loud enough to make his voice go hoarse, sometimes it fills him so much he’s sure he’ll burst from inside out. 

Robin hates it, but he doesn’t own himself, any longer. 

He has no choice but to get used to it.

.

Slade’s visits are few and far between, and most often, Robin only hears him through the recorded messages, telling him how much of a pathetic whore he is. 

Still, Slade visits, sometimes, the steady beat of the heart deepening and a herald of his approach.

There isn’t a cock in his mouth in what feels the first time in years, and Robin’s jaw still aches, barely able to close as loud moans and whimpers escape him. Being fucked continuously for so long with no ability to close his own mouth hasn’t exactly been conducive to keeping quiet, and Robin finds he can’t, now.

“What do you want, pet?” Slade asks.

In the beginning, Robin still has the presence of mind to beg to let go. “Stop it – Slade – please – anything – just stop it _please –”_ Robin had begged, words slurring and tears falling and each breath only getting more frantic as Slade only rose and turned his back on Robin. 

“Still not quite a proper pet, yet,” Slade murmurs, dismissive and disinterested. “Back to it.”

As the cock shoves its way back in, Robin cries, overwhelmed and unable to understand what he did wrong.

As the visits keep up, and anytime Robin pleads or bargains or even shouts in anger gets him nowhere, Robin understands, at last, Slade isn’t asking him what _he_ wants. No, he’s just checking how much of a _pet_ Robin is, like it’s an inevitability.

It frightens him, at first, as he notices how much longer it takes him to gather his words with each visit. They slur together, degenerating more and more and mixing together with his pitiful moans and whines.

Slade lingers longer with each one, rewarding him with little strokes of skin and skin. They feel good – so _good –_ soft and warm and _alive_ instead of all the bots that surround him. And it’s nice, too, to have his soulmate’s heart beating alongside his own.

Eventually, he stops talking, altogether.

What he wants doesn’t matter, anyway.

Slade will take what he wants, as is his right, because fate decreed Robin is his and so he _is._

FIngers press something soft and orange into his mouth – _peaches –_ and he sucks it obediently into his mouth. It’s soft and _sweet_ and Robin can’t remember the last time he had real food inside his mouth. 

It feels strange, almost, but it’s _delicious,_ and he devours it eagerly, swallowing it down and licking the juices from Slade’s fingertips. He whines, looking up hopefully at Slade for more.

Slade laughs. “Stupid pet,” he says, and there’s an edge of fondness there that makes Robin lean in and nuzzle against his thigh. Slade’s hand settles in his hair, ruffling. “I spoil you too much,” Slade mutters, sighing, but brings another slice of peach up to Robin’s lips. Robin’s lips, small and wet, encloses Slade’s fingers along with the peach, sucking on them as he looks up at Slade.

Slade is smiling, and that sends a burst of pleasure through his body. 

When Slade is happy, he stays, and that’s _good._

Robin shivers, and as the bot behind him thrusts him one more time, he comes easily, his body almost used to it by now. The rush of endorphins still makes him shiver, press more deeply into Slade’s hand, but it’s taken away. 

He whines at the loss, but doesn’t struggle. 

Slade comes and goes as he pleases, Robin has no agency over him.

“I think,” Slade muses to the air before he leaves, “It’s time to start the next phase of its training.”

That day, Robin gains another addition – cock ring, snapped tight and snug around the base of his dick, and all of a sudden – he’s not _allowed_ to come anymore. 

No more escape.

No more running into his own head, relaxing into the pleasure and letting it carry him away.

There’s only the incessant fucking, the stretch of his holes opening and closing around the intrusions, and there’s nothing Robin can do but take it and cry and hope that he’ll be allowed to come again soon. It lasts what seems to be forever, and no matter how much he sucks and thrusts back, the ring doesn’t come off.

When Slade comes, it’s a _relief,_ and he whines frantically, pleading. Slade’s steady as ever heartbeat grounds him in the hear and now, gives him something to focus on aside from how much his cock _aches._

Slade sits atop his throne, content to simply watch him get fucked for a while, and Robin does his best to be _good._ To swallow the Slade bot down so completely, till Robin’s nose nestled into its balls, to thrust back and tighten around the cock in his ass. 

And then – something strange happens. They leave. All the bots, surrounding him, in him, just _leave,_ just leaving Robin empty and gaping and twitching dazedly on the floor. He whines, frantic, not knowing what he did wrong, tears springing to his eyes as he sobs. He’s empty, empty, _empty,_ and he can’t _stand_ it, but he isn’t _allowed_ to touch himself and he doesn’t know what to _do._

Slade chuckles, and says softly, “Come here, pet.”

An order.

Robin can be good – he can listen to Slade. But Slade seems so far away, and for so long he’s been carried by the bot everywhere. Walking is a distant dream, vague and unsettling, and he crawls forward shamefully, struggling, till he’s at Slade’s feet, looking up hopefully and the smile he sees on Slade’s face is a _relief._

“Empty, aren’t you, pet?” Slade asks. Robin can only whine in response.

A hand goes to his zip, pulling it down and Robin’s eyes widen as sees Slade’s cock. It’s big and thick and _long_ , and he’s almost certain that it’s even bigger than the cocks on the bots. 

He wants it inside of him.

 _Needs_ it.

Slade must know, because he’s lifted up, and then promptly sat down on Slade’s cock.

Robin gasps, feeling a slight burn as it stretches him open. He was right, it _is_ bigger – bigger and _better,_ because it’s warm and real and _Slade’s,_ and he nuzzles into Slade’s neck happily, Slade’s heartbeat beating so strongly it drowns out his own. This is _right._

His hips twitch, but Robin thinks he could be content with only the feeling of Slade’s cock stretching him open, of being _held,_ being allowed so _close_ to Slade.

But Slade has other plans, and that’s okay too. Slade lifts him up, then slams him brutally back down, and it _hurts,_ but Robin is used to that, and so instead balances his arms around Slade’s shoulders and bounces along as he lets Slade use him like a fleshlight. 

It’s intense, being in Slade’s lap, feeling his hot breath on his shoulder, touching skin to skin and hearing Slade’s soft groans of pleasure. It makes Robin feel warm, to know that he is able to help, that Slade is gaining pleasure from _him._

Slade takes off the cock ring, and the sheer strength of the orgasm that overtakes Robin almost immediately surprises him. His eyes roll back, fingers clenching and toes curling, insides clenching around Slade, and he keens, sharp and loud. 

His body shakes as he comes back, trembling and oversensitized but Slade hasn’t come yet, so he forces himself to clench. Make himself tighter, even if it makes tears burn in his eyes, so it’ll be better for Slade.

With a growl, Slade’s thrusts speed up, and he bites down sharply on Robin’s neck. Robin mewls, holding on for dear life, as Slade fucks and _fucks_ and paints his inner walls white with come. It’s real and hot and Robin wants to keep it within him _forever._

“Good boy,” Slade murmurs, into his ear, and Robin shivers with pleasure, warmth filling him as he clings. 

He puts the cock ring back on though, and Robin can’t help but whine at that. He flinches instinctively, fearing he might have made Slade angry, but Slade only laughs. 

“Silly little pet. From now on, you’re only allowed to come on _my_ cock, understand?” Slade tells him.

It’s not as if Robin really has a choice, but he still nods, shivering. Slade is warm, and Robin has never felt so… _comfortable,_ after getting fucked. He’s almost sleepy, eyes drooping. Slade tilts his chin up though, so he forces his eyes to stay open, to focus on him. 

He’s pulled up, soft lips brushing against his own, and Robin leans into it, eyes closing. He hasn’t been kissed before, but he thinks he likes it. He hopes he’s good enough that Slade will kiss him more. 

Slade pulls back, and Robin curls into his chest again, content to stay there drifting off to the beat of Slade’s heart for eternity if need be. 

But he’s pulled off, Slade’s cock sliding out of him, hands pulling him away. Frantically, he whines, hands reaching out pleadingly towards Slade. Slade’s come drips from his hole, and his hole tries to clench shut but only flutters.

Tears sting. He doesn’t want to go.

“Stop that,” Slade chides, and Robin, very reluctantly, obeys. Stills looks at Slade with big wide blue eyes though, begging. Slade huffs. “Don’t you want to go back to being fucked, pet? I have other work to do, you know.”

But it’s not as if Robin is allowed to come from it _anyway._ And Slade is… Slade is warm, and real, and _nice,_ and pets him. Robin craves more of him with every visit. He wants to _stay._

He whines, imploring.

Slade laughs. “Silly pet,” he says with amusement, “You’re going to regret this, you know.” 

Robin doesn’t care. He wants _Slade._

“Very well then, pet,” Slade says fondly, and then Robin’s in Slade's lap again, nuzzling close and purring happily. 

His hole clenches, empty, but not for long, as Slade pushes a snug butt plug into him. It’s nowhere near as big as Slade’s cock, but that’s okay, Robin has Slade right here.

Something goes around his neck too – a collar, and that just makes Robin cling harder to Slade, pleased. He is owned, he is _wanted._

Slade’s breath is warm on his neck, his heartbeat steady next to Robin’s own, and his fingers soft as they stroke Robin’s back. 

Robin’s mouth opens in a yawn, relaxed, and sleepily, he lays his head on Slade’s shoulders.

He remembers distantly, a time where he didn’t want Slade to be his soulmate. 

Robin, warm and comfortable, can’t imagine why.

.

.

.

Robin, as a hero, while amusing, had been a hindrance – making too much trouble, always getting in the way whenever Slade got a contract in Jump. 

This, though… Slade’s eye softens as he looks down at his pet, sleeping so peacefully on his lap. Such a good, obedient creature. No backtalk, ready to spread its legs whenever Slade ordered. Weak, but that’s fine. Slade doesn’t intend for him to ever end up in the line of fire, and he’ll serve Slade well in other ways. If Slade feels like it, he might even fix the boy’s wrists and ankles after all.

Robin shifts, burying closer into Slade’s shift, mouth parting and soft breaths escaping him. His heart beats warm and steady next to Slade’s own.

Slade… doesn’t mind this. 

He might even say he likes it, somewhat.

He kisses the boy again, soft. 

Having Robin for a soulmate turned out to be a good thing after all.

Not that he would ever tell the boy that.

**Author's Note:**

> SLADE IS IN L*OVE BUT HE'S A FUCKING TSUNDERE WHO WON'T IT ADMIT SO THERE  
> G'NIGHT GOOD DAY WHATEVER I HOPE YOU ENJOYED I SHALL NOW GO CRY OVER THEM
> 
> What is Slade's other work? Watching Robin sleep like a creep :P


End file.
